


Are You Lonesome Tonight?

by felisblanco



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-22
Updated: 2004-11-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: Las Vegas. 1967. Elvis and Priscilla are getting married. And Angel and Spike just happen to run into each other. Warning: No actual appearance by The King.





	Are You Lonesome Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, my contribution to the [](http://ats-endofdays.livejournal.com/profile)[**ats_endofdays**](http://ats-endofdays.livejournal.com/) thingamagig is ready. Only 3 weeks late. Ehem...
> 
> My episode was 4.3 The House Always Wins. So it's Vegas, baby. Hope you enjoy. Beta’d by the wonderful [](http://sangpassionne.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sangpassionne.livejournal.com/)**sangpassionne**. *snogs her*

Funny the way places can change, get wider and brighter and definitely sparklier, and still stay basically the same. The same happy newcomers, the same sneaky dealers, the same blank faced gamblers waiting for that single break that they ‘know’ is just around the corner waiting to make them rich.

It was quite comforting really.

One thing that had changed though was the way people dressed. Gone was the slick look of the fifties, the strictness of the forties and the flippancy of the decades before that.

The thing about this era was that it stank. The people, the places. Sometimes it seemed like the whole planet smelled of pot and patchouli, which barely covered the fact that soap seemed to have vanished. Along with scissors.

Angel touched his own hair gingerly. Clean and fairly short. Somehow long hair took him back to his early days and he really didn’t need one more reminder of what he had been. And what he had _had_ , his mind unconsciously added, but he buried that thought quickly. After all this was what he deserved, this … loneliness.

Most of the big places were still around; the Flamingo and the Desert Inn among others, but an incredible number of other huge places had popped up, The Tropicana being the biggest and most glamorous he’d seen so far.

The overuse of glitter and neon hurt his eyes and he wondered for the hundredth time why he’d come back. Didn’t like it the first time, although the company had been quite amusing… That Frank, such a kidder. And his eyes were almost as blue as...

Anyway, it was even worse now. For one thing the music was louder than ever, blaring out wherever he went.

Radio. The curse of the 20th century.

How on earth people could listen to this noise they called music was beyond him. There were no decent lyrics, no melody, no… emotions. Just the words ‘love’ and ‘yeah’ repeated over and over again. It was torture. Made him want to smash in the heads of those ‘rockers’ with a real rock. Well, at least break their instruments, he added sullenly as the soul gave him a kick.

He was skulking, trying to find shadows in this city of lights when suddenly someone grabbed his arm and, as he turned around, a heavy blow send him flying into the nearest wall where he slumped and tried to blink the world back into focus.

“That’s for making me swim to shore, you git!”

The voice was sharp but not unfriendly and through his blurred vision he saw a hand being extended to help him up.

Spike was looming above him, a grin on his face like he had just given Angel a kiss instead of a blow. He was wearing tight black leather pants and a red flowing shirt that made a startling contrast to his pale skin. When Angel refused to take his hand, he shook his head in amusement, the neon lights making the collar length curls shine golden and wild.

“What happened to always guarding your perimeter, eh Sire?”

He chuckled and danced away when Angel took a half-hearted swing at him. “Oi! Watch it mate. Just gave you what you deserved but now I’ve finally run into you I don’t really fancy a fight.”

“I deserved...? Spike, that was over 20 years ago!”

“Pfft! I still haven’t found a coat to replace that one,” Spike pouted. “Totally ruined it, you ponce.”

“Wouldn’t go with your new look anyway,” Angel snorted and gave him a look over.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Spike looked down on his attire. “Reckon leather looks good on me. Makes me feel... evil” He grinned and tilted his head, looking more like a fallen angel than ever.

And delicious, Angel thought but there was no need stating the obvious, was there? But a part of him definitely gave his thoughts away because Spike grinned and sniffed the air.

“And obviously quite desirable. You randy old bugger.”

Angel couldn’t help laughing and, with a sting, he realised he hadn’t laughed like this since... Well, it was too long ago whenever it was. His everlasting guilt hit him at once, angry voices telling him he was not supposed to laugh, not supposed to smile, not supposed to forget even for a second all the evil…

“You brooding, mate? Can’t have that, can we?”

Angel frowned and massaged the spot where Spike had jabbed an elbow none too gently into his side. Should really punish him for that one, but then Spike might go away and…

“What are you doing here in this city of idiots anyway? Can’t be for the shows, doubt it’s for the gambling... don’t tell me you’re here for the wedding?”

Angel blinked. There was a wedding? “Are you and Dru...?” Well, stranger things had happened.

For a moment a shadow of misery crossed Spike’s face but it was gone so soon Angel might have believed he’d imagined it, if he didn’t know his boy so well.

“Not bloody likely. Dru’s... off somewhere. You know her, she’ll come back. She always does.”

But his voice was filled with hurt and Angel wondered how many decades it would take for Spike to realise that the love he had for Dru was only partly reciprocated.

“No, I’m talking about Elvis’ wedding. Finally getting hitched after all these years.”

“Elvis?” Angel just stared at him. Had he been feeding from one of those potheads?

“Even you must know Elvis! The King of Rock ‘N Roll?” Spike did a few hip rolls to emphasize.

“I know who Elvis is, Spike. I’m not totally out of it. Are you telling me you are invited to his wedding?”

“Well, yeah. Or no. Ok, so Priscilla invited Dru. They met in a bridal shop of all places; Dru helped her pick out the dress. Then she ate the shop girl, but that’s another story. Anyway, I thought she might be here. Not that I care.”

He got quiet and for a moment he looked just as lost as the first time Drusilla’s infidelity had been thrown in his face. Angel bit back the urge to apologize. What was to be said after all these years, after all?

Spike shook his head so his curls danced and smiled, if a bit sadly. Eighty years and he had denial down to perfection. “But instead I find you. Even better. How about we find us a nice spot to finish a bottle or two? Just like old times, eh?”

Angel’s first instinct was to refuse. Drinking meant talking and even if he managed to dodge all the why’s and who’s and what-have-you-been-up-to’s, at some point Spike would get hungry. And then what? Not like he could join him, in fact he doubted he could even watch.

But then he looked into those blue eyes, mirroring what surely could be seen in his own. Loneliness, sadness, feelings of rejection.

“Sure, why not?”

The smile on Spike’s face was heartbreaking and Angel wondered how long Dru had been gone this time. And if she really would always come back.

They found a relatively quiet place, dark and gloomy with a lone piano player lending a nostalgic atmosphere. And above all cheap drinks. They might have been apart for a long time but some things never change and Angel knew Spike expected him to take care of the bill. Either by handing out money or snapping the bartender’s neck, whichever was more convenient. Being the sire didn’t just give you rights, it also came with a load of responsibilities. Responsibilities he had not shouldered for a long time and Spike’s acceptance and unquestioning happiness at seeing him made him feel all the more guilty for his neglect.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Spike drumming his fingers to a beat quite different from the one being played, Angel watching him. He wanted to memorize every inch of his boy’s face, inhale his scent, drown in the familiarity and memories. He was so tired of being alone and here was Spike, alone as well for God knows how long. If he could only…

But it was ridiculous, completely out of the question. It wouldn’t be long until Spike found out about the soul and even if for some strange reason he would accept it, he himself would never give up the hunt. And where would that leave Angel? Every night the smell of human blood on his boy would push him closer to the edge. It would be the death of one of them and he knew he could never kill Spike. After all he was… family.

A slender hand on his knee startled him out of his thoughts and he stared at it, confused.

“Didn’t I say no more brooding? Anything you want to talk about?”

Spike’s eyes were calm and so kind that Angel wanted to cry. Still so human, his boy. More than he himself would ever become.

“Not brooding, just... “ he waved dismissively, “... memories.”

Spike nodded and gave his knee a tight squeeze before removing his hand. It left Angel’s skin tingling and he mourned the loss of contact. He hadn’t been touched like that in decades.

“Memories, yeah. Guess we have plenty of those.” Spike seemed deep in thought for a moment but then he smiled, raised his hand and clinked their glasses together. “Lets drink to those. Good and bad, missed and rather forgotten.”

His words made Angel cringe and in his mind flashed images of William bruised and broken, skin painted with rosy welts, blood running from his… “Can you forget, Will? Can you forgive?”

The shocked look on Spike’s face made him realise he had spoken out loud. Embarrassed he poured them both another drink, hoping Spike would interpret his words as drunken rambling.

“Is that what you want? Forgiveness?” Spike leaned forward, frowning in confusion. “Angelus, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. Lets drink.” Angel threw back the whiskey, welcoming the burn as it travelled through his body, warming it up if only for a few seconds.

“If you say so.” But Spike was still staring at him, a look of worry on his face. “So no talking of the past, no questions about the present... I guess that leaves us the future.”

Angel gave a hollow laugh. “Future? You going to read my palm now?”

Spike grinned but his happiness was dwindling, Angel’s gloomy mood infecting him. “Nah, that’s more Dru’s cup of tea. Although all she ever sees is death and destruction. Usually brought on by herself a few minutes later.” He smiled fondly. “I was thinking more of the immediate future. Like tonight. What do you say we get out of this bloody depressing place and find us a room?”

Angel stared at him. He surely didn’t mean… But as he saw the hope die in the blue eyes he realised that was just what he did.

Could they really? After all these years? Then he thought of where he had spent last night, shivering and feeling so cold inside in that small bed, listening to the rats and cockroaches dancing all around him. And here was Spike, asking him to… God yes!

He stood up abruptly, almost knocking their tiny table over. Spike was watching him, a nerve twitching in his jaw, probably wondering if now was the time to flee or…

“Come on. It’ll get light soon.”

The musky smell of arousal tinted with a hint of fear hit Angel like a wave and he could barely restrain himself from grabbing Spike by those beautiful golden curls and crushing his lips to his own. Instead he took Spike’s wrist and started pulling him out of the club, growling with impatience when Spike resisted long enough to grab the bottle. Before long they were out in the warm Vegas air.

“Where are you staying?” His voice was husky and he could feel Spike tremble beside him.

“Just got here. So nowhere yet.”

Frustrated, Angel looked around. Hotels everywhere but after those two bottles he only had a few dollars left in his pocket.

“Just pick a place, Angelus. Not like we’re gonna pay for it, you cheap bastard.”

He growled but then he thought ‘Well, why the hell not?’ After killing people for hundred years an unpaid bill wouldn’t tip the scales.

With a determination he hadn’t felt for too long, Angel strode into the Tropicana, dragging Spike behind him like a stubborn child. Well, that was more or less an accurate description, he thought, grinning slightly.

The desk clerk gave them a dirty look but had to admit that they did indeed have a vacancy, yes with a double bed. He couldn’t have looked more disgusted if they’d told him they planned on bringing a couple of goats as well. Spike growled but one look from Angel shut him up, although he kept an evil eye on the little shit.

They hardly made it inside the elevator, pushing the bellboy out, before Spike dropped to his knees and mouthed Angel’s hard bulge through the thin khakis. Purring sending deep vibrations through Angel’s cock and he was tempted to just hit the Stop button, but didn’t want this over too soon.

Pulling Spike up by his neck, Angel crushed their lips together. Spike’s gasping made him smile. Angelus never was much for kisses, reserving them for those rare moments of leisured mating in the early morning hours when they were feeling sleepy and full after a heavy meal. But looking back, those were the moments he missed the most. And it seemed that Spike was thinking along the same lines because he took to the kiss like a drowning man to air.

They were so absorbed in each other’s taste and touch that they didn’t even notice the door opening until a loud disapproving ‘Ehem’ woke them up. They pulled apart, panting like dogs and stepped out. Spike gave their intruder a glazed look. “Want to keep him for snack?”

Angel pulled him in tight and licked his neck. “I plan to snack on you.”

Spike chuckled and then they were kissing again. Somehow they managed to find their room and open the door without ever leaving each other’s arms and as soon as it clicked shut behind them they started ripping at each other’s clothes.

Spike’s shirt landed on the edge of a chair, his leather pants in a puddle on the floor and his boots under the bed. Leaving him standing, gasping for breath, his naked skin pulsing yellow and red in the eddying light from the bedside lava lamp.

Angel stared at him, mesmerized. So beautiful, his boy. Eagerly he pulled his t-shirt over his head as Spike fell to his knees again, loosening his sire’s pants with trembling fingers.

“God, Angelus. It’s been so long. Been thinking of you, dreaming of you, missing you so much.” His desperately happy voice hit Angel like a punch in the guts. Spike thought he was back to stay. But instead Angel was about to break his heart all over again. But not yet, not until he’d given him the farewell he couldn’t all those years ago.

Hiding his feelings Angel sunk down to his knees as well, and with a gentle hand tipped Spike’s face up and kissed him softly. “Missed you too, Will. My boy.”

Spike’s soft sob mixed with hysterical laughter and he clung to Angel, licking and nibbling at his skin. Then he looked up, eyes dark like the midnight sky. “Your boy, sire.”

He stood up and pulled Angel with him, stumbling until he fell back on the bed, Angel falling heavily on top of him, and the whole world got lost.

\----

Afterward, Angel lay awake, listening to Spike’s soft breathing as he slept, his slender body curled against him. The night would soon fall upon them and Spike would wake up expecting him to take his place as the head of the family again. To hunt and kill and...

Quietly he slipped from under the covers and got dressed. It was better this way. He cast a last longing look at the sleeping form, enjoying its serenity, imprinting the sight into his memory, before closing the door behind him.

Spike opened his eyes and gazed at the door, willing it to open and bring him back. With a quiet sigh, he curled up, inhaling the fading scent of Angel from the damp sheets. “Forgiven, sire, for whatever it was.”

\----------

Angel told himself he was there for the food, those deep fried banana sandwiches were especially good, but as his drunken eyes searched the crowd for golden curls, he knew that if Spike actually did show up, he would follow him to the ends of the earth.

 

Fin


End file.
